Driving Myself Crazy

When I drove in Alberta, I'd call my vehicle my Hypothetical Argument Simulator. That was how I used to sort out my problems. I'd get in my vehicle, drive somewhere, and have a good conversation with myself about why I was ticked off, run through a collection of scenarios as to how to tell someone off, realize that no matter what I said I was still wrong, defuse myself and accept the situation.

When you drive in Edmonton, there are long straight stretches of nothing but stop lights. You don't have to think very hard when you drive, because there aren't many turns, the roads are wide, and since you're staring at a red light you have the time to think about whatever is bothering you.

Here, forget about all that. There are very few stop lights. You never get a second to even pause. You better like what's on your play list because you can't spare one finger to change the song. The roads are insanely curvy so you have to focus all the time. Sometimes, I feel like there's a driving instructor in the seat next to me. “You know how to turn your car, don't you?” he says. And I say, “I've had my driver's license for 15 years. I've probably done it twice.” And then we laugh and laugh, because the roads here are windier than a Mario Cart track. And so, yes, since I came from Edmonton, I can't claim to have driven on curves before.

So, the other problem is that if you go off the road for some reason, you'll die. I mean, you will die. Die. Death. The shoulders here maybe have enough room on them for half a car and then there is a wall of trees that goes along the sides of the road forever. You will die if you go off the road. You will hit a forest, total your car and that will be the end of it. When I got here, there were some sweet little wickets they put on the white line on the road by the lake. I saw them and I was like, “This is how I prove I can live here, by never ever grazing one.” Okay, so I didn't touch them, but the locals have completely decimated all of them. Sometimes people go so fast, they have a hard time staying on the road.

Those incredible trees also mean it's dark here – really dark here. The moon and the stars are shining, but you can only see a tiny sliver of sky above you. The trees are that dense. The sky is only available where the road cut away the trees. It's mostly black walls on both sides of you. Drivers use their brights here all the time. After driving somewhere at night, you honestly feel like you've been interrogated for espionage and they've finally agreed to let you have a glass of water. It's not just the cars in front of you either. The car riding your back bumper has their brights on too. But sometimes, when you're driving alone on the road, you make a turn or have to go down a hill and it feels like you are diving into a black hole. And I'm singing A-ha, Little Black Heart in my head, “But I've never felt darkness the way I feel it tonight.”

Just a post script, if you thought my mentioning a glass of water above was strange, it's because you can't get yourself a drink when you're driving. You wouldn't dare, even if your drink has a straw in it, because you're about to take a crazy curve.